The Rise of Ophelia
by DanforthLaertes
Summary: After the horrors of the Horus Heresy, the Imperium begins to rebuild itself. But with the personal guidance of the Emperor gone, His will must be interpreted by flawed men - some more flawed than others! Learn how Ophelia VII rose to power & prominence in the early Imperium thanks to fate & the machinations of clever men. Part 2 of my fanon history, presented as a history text.
1. The Brotherhood

_**A/n:**_ _This is part 2 of my fanon history of Ophelia, the Ecclesiarchy and (later) my homebrew Order of Adepta Sororitas. The first part is "The Tale of Verity" (and it may be good to read that first). In this second part, I wanted to address the reality of Ophelia VII in the 35th millennium when Benedin IV moved the Ecclesiarchy's headquarters there (it was described as not only a Cardinal and Shrine world, but also the richest planet in the Imperium after Terra and Mars). But how did that happen? Industrial Hive Worlds like Armageddon and Necromunda are where the industry is; Shrine Worlds are literally that - world-spanning shrines and chapels. As a pilgrimage destination or the seat of a Cardinal (with all the tithes, donations, indulgence payments and so forth pouring in) it would become wealthy, but why would Ophelia VII become such a planet? This post is my attempt to answer those questions and more!_

 _(Please note; this history is, of course, unofficial - although it does make reference to canonical events in the Warhammer 40,000 timeline and universe.)_

* * *

Isolated from the Imperium's core worlds of Terra and Mars by sheer distance, the Ophelia system was virtually untouched by the Horus Heresy. The rebellion broke fifty-five years after the Emperor's victory against the Garrison, barely two generations after colonization began. The first governor, the man who had been given his orders by the Emperor himself at the mouth of the valley, was still Imperial Commander of Ophelia VII, most of the colonists still living in the initial pre-fabricated domicile-landers. Farmland had been tilled and crops sown and harvested, the first mines sunk into the other planets' surfaces, some factories built and the beginnings of civic infrastructure established, but the system was still in the first phases of colonization. As an unimportant world in the nascent Imperium, Ophelia VII was beneath the notice of the traitors' military command. The barbaric hordes of the World Eaters or the degenerate Emperor's Children might have found a massacre of helpless civilians amusing, but as fate would have it neither of those Legions came near the vulnerable Ophelia system.

The ruling family of Ophelia had followed standard colonization protocols to the letter, developing the system conservatively and with fastidious attention to detail. Cities, factories, farmland and more had spread over Ophelia VII while mines had been sunk into the surface of the other planets in the system. The Emperor's edict to not build or excavate within the mountains had been followed perhaps overzealously; the first governor had lain down a law that no-one even enter the mountain region. Those who had come after him had continued to enforce the edict in this manner. Regardless of this, the system became wealthy and powerful thanks to abundant natural resources, careful management and a long period of peace.

Following his interment in the Golden Throne, cults worshipping the Emperor as divine arose across the Imperium, and Ophelia was no exception. However, whereas on some worlds the cults were tolerated or even welcomed, on Ophelia the government held strongly to the Imperial Truth and punished profession or open worship with fine, imprisonment and even - in the case of cult leaders - torture and death.

Despite this persecution, or perhaps because of it, over the first century of the 31st millennium the cults coalesced into a single belief-system - the Brothers of Ophelia. Like the other Emperor-worshiping cults throughout the galaxy, their theology was based on the Lectitio Divinitatus written (unknown to them) by the Primarch Lorgar. In order to protect members' identities, the Brothers referred to each other only as "Laertes", taken from an ancient Terran text.

But the Brothers' belief in the divinity of the Emperor was not the only mythology on Ophelia VII. Based on scraps of information left behind after the defeat of the Garrison - the redacted campaign records, rumors, speculation and hearsay - legends had arisen about the Emperor's presence on the planet. That the Emperor came down from the mountains alone and met the first governor at the mouth of the valley and placed the mountains under interdict led to speculation of what might be found there. Different groups on the planet believed different things, but the Brothers filtered the scant facts through the lens of their belief in the Emperor's divinity. The fact the governors had been overzealous, forbidding entry to the mountains when the Emperor's decree was only against construction, led them to believe there was some sacred sign in the mountains, something the secular government did not wish to be known because it would reveal the Imperial Truth to be a lie.

In the second century of the millennium, conflict between the Brothers and the government of Ophelia grew and the believers' ranks swelled as more and more people joined them covertly. The most significant of these conversions was a nephew of the Imperial Commander. A far-sighted and well-educated man with great wealth and power, he not only had a strong influence on the cult but had the vision to help guide it.

On Terra, Fatidicus had established the Temple of the Savior Emperor shortly after the climax of the Horus Heresy and now, nearly two centuries later, it had absorbed virtually all the competing cults on the homeworld and most of those in the Segmentum Solar. The nephew knew this was the opportunity the cults of the Emperor had been waiting for; the Temple of the Savior Emperor was more than just one cult among hundreds - its reunification theology was resonating with the people of the Imperium and he knew it was only a matter of time before it absorbed all the other cults in the galaxy. But more than that - as a former-dilettante noble with time and resources to delve deep into such things, he had studied the human condition and the history of faith and knew religion was endemic to humanity. The Temple of the Savior Emperor would not only become the only religion but, sooner or later, the official, state religion. Eventually, the Temple would come to Ophelia and not only atheistic Imperial Truth but any competing cults would be suppressed. It would be better for the Brothers if they joined the Temple willingly - perhaps as equals - and presented Ophelia to the masters of the religion as a jewel in the Emperor's new crown.

The secrecy of the cult made it difficult and he was unable to secure the agreement of all the Brothers' leaders, but he was able to convince them of the value of allying with the Temple and even develop a joint theological statement of understanding. He then declared open membership in the Brothers of Ophelia, publicly taking the name Laertes and professing his faith in the Emperor. He also published the joint theological statement as a manifesto, aligning his theology with that of the Temple of the Savior Emperor. Inspired by his example, many other Brothers also revealed themselves and openly proclaimed the Emperor's divinity.

The secular forces of Ophelia were shocked by the number of Brothers - whole cities and regions were dominated by them. Reacting swiftly, the governor declared his nephew an enemy of the Imperium, the Temple a subversive organization and ordered the military to redouble their persecution of the Brothers, raising the penalty for worshipping the Emperor from a fine or imprisonment to death. However, many members of the military - especially officers - were Brothers and so the persecution was blunted.

Laertes was idealistic and sought to settle the matter without bloodshed - convinced of the divinity of the Emperor, he felt that if the Brothers of Ophelia were free to evangelize, the planet would soon convert. He simply sought an end to the persecution to allow that. But while Laertes was the public face of the Brothers, he was not their leader, and they had other ideas. Their cruel treatment at the hands of the government left them unwilling to be gentle and many of them were angry at what they perceived as Laertes' temerity or even heresy in aligning their theology with that of the Temple of the Savior Emperor. On their orders, a religious uprising took place, with Brothers storming government buildings and military installations.

Laertes appealed for restraint - humans fighting humans was not what the Emperor wanted, and worship was valueless if be coerced. This message resonated with the common Brothers; many of the worst excesses were blunted and the leader's terrorism lost support - among the population at large, of course, but even among their followers. There were open calls for Laertes to be the new governor when his uncle was deposed or stepped down. The Brothers' leaders realized they needed to remove Laertes and plotted to have him assassinated.

The evangelization of Laertes' faction had converted many of the people of Ophelia, and while the governor refused to admit it, it was clear to the secular authorities the Brothers would win the civil war. The only question was; which faction - peaceful evangelization or violent jihad - would dominate. Pushed in that direction by secret Brothers within the cabinet, the secular government determined it was more desirable Laertes' faction be in power and, in a palace coup, deposed the governor and declared Laertes head of state.

Protected by the security forces of the planetary government, the assassination of Laertes failed. But the attempts forced his hand; the jihadist faction's motives were laid bare. It was clear they did not simply desire to be permitted to worship openly, or even to have their religion dominate the planet - they sought vengeance and violence against those who had wronged them, and would kill anyone who got in their way. With great regret, he ordered the destruction of the jihadist faction and - armed with not only the full strength of the Imperial military, but also Laertes' knowledge of the Brothers' internal structure and practices - they did just that.

Some of the Brothers never forgave Laertes for that treachery and when he assumed the leadership of the Brothers, formally merging them into the Temple of the Savior Emperor, that was the final straw. A schism occurred, with a faction of the Brothers unwilling to give up their independence and making mountains out of theological molehills splitting off and setting themselves up against the Temple of the Savior Emperor.

But this was a minor wrinkle in the smooth transition of Ophelia from a conservative, atheistic system devoted to the Imperial Truth to one devoted to the worship of the Emperor. Laertes was named Cardinal by the Ecclesiarch of the Temple of the Savior Emperor and Ophelia VII became the first of the Cardinal Worlds, with special privileges and entitlements. Laertes had achieved his goal; as the power and influence of the Temple of the Savior Emperor grew, so would Ophelia's.


	2. The Imperial Creed

Laertes' first action as Cardinal-Governor was to erect temples, cathedrals and chapels across Ophelia. A planet-wide appeal for donations swelled the faith's coffers, for believers were not only the majority of the population but also wealthy and generous. But they were not generous enough for some.

Laertes himself was satisfied - a kind but perhaps naïve convert to the faith, he believed the Emperor wanted sacrifice, devotion and hard work rather than grandiose cathedrals or gargantuan monuments. He was also convinced, as he had been when he opposed the jihadist faction of the Brothers of Ophelia, evangelization not coercion was the key to spreading the truth of the Emperor's divinity. Every city and settlement should have a place for the faithful to worship, but it should be built with whatever the faithful were able to give, and not from taxes squeezed from an unwilling population. Preaching, charitable works and an example to follow would bring unbelievers into the flock, and then the spires of the cathedrals would rise to truly reflect the Emperor's glory.

As the third century of the 31st millennium began, the Temple of the Savior Emperor was growing and powerful. It had come to dominate the Adepts of Terra, and while the faith was not formally tolerated and the atheistic Imperial Truth was the Imperium's official policy, in practice worship of the Emperor enjoyed a latitude which other faiths did not. This, however, did not satisfy the masters of the religion - who desired not only formal tolerance nor even official recognition, but enforced compliance and tithing from all the trillions of citizens of the Imperium.

Ophelia was not the first world ruled by an adherent to the faith, but it was the first whose governor was a formal member of the clergy and who had made acknowledgement of the Emperor's divinity a central pillar of his government. The Temple could not allow Laertes' gentle evangelization to be the order of the day.

Officially, the assassination of Laertes was blamed on the disaffected Brothers of Ophelia. In truth, this was unlikely to be the case - since his appointment as Cardinal-Governor and the accompanying schism, they had splintered still further. Riven by internecine conflict, their terrorist plots were easily foiled by Ophelia's security services. As much as they might have wished it were the case, the Brothers had neither the resources nor the organization to kill Laertes. It was far more likely the assassination was the work of an agent of the Temple of the Savior Emperor, perhaps guided and instructed by the man who succeeded Laertes as Cardinal-Governor of Ophelia.

Constantinus was a sickly man with aquiline features and the watery eyes of a fanatic. Born on Terra, he was sent as a theological advisor to Laertes when the latter was made Cardinal. Utterly devoted to the Temple of the Savior Emperor, he sought its advancement at any cost - even violation of the Temple's own doctrines. He was not deep in Laertes' confidence, who found his impious pragmatism abhorrent, but the Cardinal could not afford to publicly rebuke the man sent by the Ecclesiarch himself. And so it was when Laertes died that Constantinus was named Cardinal.

But not governor of Ophelia VII. The planet's charter was unchanged from when the first colonists had settled it; the governorship was a hereditary position, bound to the family of the master of the original colonization fleet. On his death, resignation or impeachment, the cabinet - a body of advisors appointed by the governor - chose his successor. Most often, they simply ratified his choice - normally, his eldest child - but they could select who they wished provided he was from the ruling family. During the Great Crusade, this had been a common policy, with such rights being granted to powerful nobles, merchants and even military commanders as a reward for service. Even had they been minded to change Ophelia's charter, the slow-grinding wheels of the Imperial Administration - now beginning to be called the Adeptus Administratum - would not make a change within the lifetime of Constantinus.

But it seemed as if there would be no member of Laertes' family to succeed him. His wife - grief-stricken by her husband's cruel murder at the hands of terrorists - was found dead by one of her servants, having taken poison and committed suicide, unwilling to continue alone. The heir apparent as governor would have been one of Laertes' children, but they each renounced their claim. His daughters took the veil and joined a cloistered order of contemplative nuns, withdrawing to a remote monastery where they had no contact with the outside world. His son, enraged and blaming his parents' deaths on the Brothers of Ophelia, swore vengeance against them and lead his father's bodyguard off-world on a crusade of retribution.

Such was the tale, at least, that Constantinus told during the homily of the mass of Laertes' funeral and his installation. Even in death Laertes' family served the Emperor - his daughters giving themselves to his worship, his son and bodyguards to punishment of his enemies, even his wife sacrificing herself so the Imperium would not need to support her with a pension now her purpose as matriarch was no more. Truly, Laertes' family was an exemplar and example for all pious devotees of the God-Emperor.

Which was why Constantinus himself was so humbled to have been accepted into that family! Yes, truly - the Cardinal had adopted Constantinus in secret shortly before his death, giving him the familial name of Laertes. The documents had simply been misplaced, but thanks to the efforts of the First Minister of Ophelia's Cabinet (a man newly-elevated following the treachery and removal of his senior colleagues) they had been discovered. Constantinus Laertes, the son of the first Cardinal-Governor, would - with a humble and heavy heart - assume his father's title, seat and office and lead Ophelia to a new and bright future.

That future came quickly, and while it was new many did not find it bright. To expand the cathedral in Ophelia's newly-renamed capital city of Saint Laertes (for such had the Cardinal been proclaimed) into a worthy tomb for such a loyal servant of the Emperor, Constantinus instituted a tithe for all members of the Temple of the Savior Emperor, rather than relying on their willing donations. "The Emperor knows what is best for you, how much you can afford," he explained to the people. "As he gave more than we can imagine to us, so too can you give more than you think to him."

Many, especially among the poorest, might have renounced their faith (at least officially) rather than pay the tithe, for those who were not adherents did not have to pay it and membership was not mandatory. "Gifts to the Emperor must be given willingly," explained Constantinus, "and are the duty of his followers, not those infidels laboring in benighted ignorance. Nor is coercion the way forward - Saint Laertes did not want that, and this poor and humble servant would follow in his glorious footsteps."

But while Constantinus preached a message of tolerance and freedom of religion, it was clear some of his followers did not heed him. There were reports of violence, and even some instances of it, where members of the Temple of the Savior Emperor attacked unbelievers and even members of rival sects. Ophelia's security forces did their best to prevent such attacks and protect the perfidious, but they were stretched too thin and their resources and numbers too few.

It was the genius of Constantinus which found a solution; a tax on those who were not members of the Temple to pay for the additional security needed. That the tax was higher than the tithe required for membership was purely coincidental and caused by simple economic pressures rather than any other factor. To make it easier for the tax collectors, the revenue service required all households eligible to pay the tax (that is, those who were not adherents) to display a prominent sign in their windows.

Within months of Constantinus' ascension to the position of Cardinal-Governor of Ophelia VII, the inevitable conclusion was clear. With contrary thoughts and philosophies effectively suppressed, it was only a matter of time before every Imperial soul on the planet was, at least in theory and by public profession, an adherent to what Constantinus was beginning to call "The Imperial Creed". He equated belief in the Emperor's divinity with loyalty to the Imperium itself, suggesting those who failed to acknowledge the Emperor as a god did not acknowledge him at all. Faith in the Emperor was faith in humanity. Failure to worship was tantamount to treachery.

Constantinus' success did not go unnoticed by other Cardinals or even the Eccelsiarch. In particular, his equating piety with patriotism was studied. This doctrine not only encouraged devotion to the Temple, but was also palatable to the High Lords of Terra - if formally incorporated into the teaching of the Temple of the Savior Emperor, the people's adherence to the faith would become valuable to the Imperium's government. An edict of toleration would be passed, followed almost inevitably - if the Temple played its cards right - by formal recognition as a permitted, or perhaps even mandated, state religion. In an Imperium of a million worlds and trillions of souls, it might take a millennium or more, but - sooner or later - it would happen.

Constantinus knew this of course - it had probably been his plan all along. But he also knew it would make him enemies in the college of Cardinals, other clergymen who desired the prestige and power of being the architect of the Temple's rise to prominence. Factions would develop, each trying to curry favor with the Ecclesiarch ... or perhaps depose him and take his place. For the sake of both the Temple and himself, Constantinus needed to make Ophelia the new center of the faith.

A man like Constantinus might have been able to do this without any assistance but, as fate would have it, the history of the Great Crusade lent a hand.


	3. The Via Imperator

Constantinus did not rest on his laurels after rising to the Cardinalate-Governorship of Ophelia; despite the fact he had removed ambitious rivals from the cabinet and replaced them with men more amenable to his plans, he knew they must be pandered to or they might challenge his authority as he himself had challenged Laertes'. Rewarding them and restructuring the Ophelian constitution would allow him to consolidate his power and ensure not only his continued primacy on Ophelia, but his influence within the Temple of the Savior Emperor.

Rewarding them was simple. He had already seized the holdings of the former cabinet members executed for treason and now he expanded that investigation, purging the noble and merchant class of traitors. That these traitors were wealthy and independent-minded men was, of course, merely the natural course of events. "Is strength of will not merely defiance of the Emperor's plans?" he proclaimed as the pyres burned, shouting to be heard over the screams of the condemned. "Is service to the Emperor not its own reward, more precious than gold or jewels? Distrust those with their own ideas! Abhor those with wealth! Poverty and obedience are the virtues the Emperor desires! Cultivate them!" Constantinus was careful, of course, to make it clear that he merely carried out the will of the Emperor rather than indulging his own ideas, and that the lands, companies and treasure seized from the condemned was now owned by the Emperor, administered by the Temple and that he possessed nothing of his own.

On his cabinet he placed the heavy burden of day-to-day administration of these holdings, dividing responsibility among them. He himself would manage the Temple's - that is, the Emperor's - holdings on Ophelia VII itself with the cabinet members taking charge of land, mines and factories on the inhospitable but wealthy outer planets. With grave acknowledgement of the seriousness of their duties, the cabinet members left to manage the Emperor's wealth.

With potential rivals both rewarded and removed, Constantinus turned his attention to a reorganization of Ophelia's constitution. But this was not so easily accomplished - the Temple of the Savior Emperor was growing in power, but was not yet powerful enough to challenge the lords of Terra. The Adeptus Administratum resented interference in its domain and Constantinus did not have the political capital to force the Temple into a confrontation over the charter of a single world. Which is not to say he did not try; the matter was only settled when - on Holy Terra itself - a servitor-acolyte of the Ecclesiarch's camerlengo whispered to him. "His Holiness reminds you no good can come from contention with the Adeptus Administratum at this time. The charter of Ophelia VII will stand, perhaps for eternity. But there will be other worlds and, Emperor willing, they will be settled under a new arrangement. Your Eminence must be patient both in waiting for this to come and enduring the unfortunate situation of being the first extra-terran see."

But Constantinus was not easily thwarted. What he desired - a change in the charter so that the Imperial Commander of Ophelia would be the Cardinal of the diocese, elected and appointed by the Temple - would not happen. But if the Administratum would not change its rules, the Temple could - and would. He created a body of advisors, called the chancery and consisting of the members of Ophelia's cabinet, ordaining them to the priesthood of the Temple and the rank of Chancellor. Finally, he formally adopted each of them into the ruling family, giving them each the name Laertes.

And thus the charter of Ophelia was co-opted for the Temple's needs; with each family member being a celibate priest there could be no legitimate births into the family, and with the Cardinal-Governor being the paterfamilias he controlled all adoptive entry. The power of the Temple over the governorship of Ophelia was assured. This method, unchanged for over ten-thousand years, is still how Ophelia is governed. The charter remains as it was when the planet was first colonized during the Great Crusade, but the Ecclesiarchy's rules mean the Adeptus Ministorum is in complete control.

This arrangement is unique among the Cardinal-worlds of the Imperium - others were settled after the adoption of the Temple of the Savior Emperor as the Imperial Cult, or had their charters modified at that time. On those worlds, the governor is the Cardinal - whoever the Ecclesiarchy appoints to the position, without any reference to the Administratum. But Ophelia's unique situation has an interesting effect - and perhaps this was Constantinus' plan all along. The governor must be chosen from the ruling family, but the Cardinal does not need to be. In theory, the Ecclesiarchy could appoint whoever they wished to the see of Ophelia. In practice, that would leave the Cardinal nothing more than the head of the local church, unconnected from the government of the Ophelia system.

And so the practical effect of Constantinus' reforms was to grant the privilege of choosing the Cardinal to the Cabinet-Chancery of Ophelia, rather than the Ecclesiarch. Because of this, Ophelia enjoys an independence unique among all the Cardinal-worlds of the Imperium.

Even prior to the foundation of the Imperial Cult, the Ecclesiarch and the masters of the faith on Terra were aware of this. Constantinus had, to a degree, outmaneuvered them. In the 31st millennium, they did not have the political capital to challenge him without destroying all that had been accomplished on Ophelia for the faith, but that did not mean they accepted the situation. Patiently, they plotted and waited for the moment to be right.

Constantinus was, of course, ahead of them. His rivals and enemies were other Cardinals and senior clergymen; the Ecclesiarch himself was a more deliberative, cautious and far-sighted man. He kept an eye on those below him in case a challenger for his throne arose. He found Constantius' upstart ambition useful - it kept the Cardinals bickering and divided - but he still watched the Ophelian Cardinal with interest and care in case he moved against his master.

But Constantinus did not. Instead, he turned his attention to the mountains. The first governor's interpretation of the Emperor's edict still stood - that no-one should enter the mountains - but the legends that had begun a century or more before continued to grow. The Emperor had walked in the mountains, had come down from the mountains. The first atheistic governors of Ophelia had forbidden people to go into the mountains because there was something there that would reveal the Imperial Truth to be a lie. "The truth is in the mountains," became a common doxology.

It is uncertain if Constantinus knew what was in the mountains - it is possible scrying satellites or scouting servo skulls had been used to reveal it - but it was certain he would make capital about whatever was there, even if it were nothing but alpine wilderness. "That the Emperor came down from the mountains and walked along the valley, meeting the first of the humans to settle Ophelia at its mouth, is unquestionable!" he preached. "That he walked in the mountains, sanctifying that hither-to heathen soil with his sacred feet, is an unassailable truth! That the Emperor descended to us from the peaks to the valleys is beyond doubt! This is the way of the Emperor - he came down to us and so we must go up to him! The truth is in the mountains and the truth comes from the mountains! We must go to it, replenishing our faith at the wellspring of truth so that we can bring it through the valley down to the lowlands! Let us be the river of truth that flows from the source of truth! Walk with me! Walk with me to the mountains!"

Thus did Constantinus call for the first pilgrimage to the Ophelian mountains on Sanguinalia 247.M31. From the pulpit in the Cathedral of the Emperor Deified in the capital of Saint Laertes, Constantinus snatched up his crozier and strode from the sanctuary and down the nave. The ten-thousand strong congregation roared their acclamation and rose as one, following their Cardinal as he led them out of the Cathedral, through the city and towards the mouth of the valley. Watching on pict-screens throughout the continent and beyond, others rose and hastened to join the pilgrimage. A body of people, tens of millions strong, followed Constantinus, a solid mass of humanity united in devotion to the God-Emperor of Mankind. The Cardinal himself led the pilgrimage, striding tirelessly forward without hesitation or uncertainty. "The Emperor's truth sustains me and draws me on!" he proclaimed. "Nothing can withstand Mankind united in faith!" The elements conspired with him - rivers calming to let the pilgrimage through, brambles parting, crevasses closing and snow-squalls dying. Nothing could stop the pilgrimage from reaching its destination, the very peak of the highest mountain.

That is, at least, the way the Ecclesiarchy tells it. While there was certainly a pilgrimage to the mountains, it was probably not the spontaneous uprising depicted in the popular tales. Constantinus may have led the pilgrimage, but not walking at its head. He was an aged and sickly man, and the distance of the journey - not to mention the harsh conditions in the mountains - made that unlikely. The terrain of the mountains was - and still is - rugged and treacherous; it would have been all-but-impossible for unprepared civilians without specialized gear and significant supplies to walk the Via Imperator.

For that is how the pilgrimage route became known; the Via Imperator, "the Way of the Emperor". Had there been nothing in the mountains but rugged alpine terrain, the stark, cold beauty of Ophelia before she was colonized, it would have become a prized pilgrimage route - for the Emperor had walked here, fought here at the head of his Custodians and alongside the Primarch-Saint Rogal Dorn of the Imperial Fists. The very ground was sacred and on the long, arduous trek from the luxurious piety of the city of Saint Laertes at the valley mouth to the austere sanctity of the peaks, vice was drawn from pilgrims as surely as the rocky terrain drew blood from their feet.

But there was more. When Constantinus reached the summit of the centermost and tallest peak, he and his fellow pilgrims were greeted with a marvelous sight; a colossal statue surrounded by ten pillars, all wrought in gleaming adamantium. The pillars were in the Palatine-Terran style and the statue was of a beautiful woman wearing the armor of the Emperor's household during the Great Crusade locked in combat with a monstrous winged serpent. On a plinth beside it were graven the words "VERITY VINCIT VERMIS"; "Truth Conquers the Worm" in High Gothic.

That these words matched so perfectly with the homily Constantinus had preached immediately before setting out only validated the pilgrims' faith. The statue and pillars were reverently examined; the eternally-uncorroded adamantium could not be dated, of course, but it was obvious they dated from the Great Crusade, and were the work of the Emperor himself. No-one else had been in the mountains since he was here, and who else possessed the smithcraft to have wrought such things so precisely and without flaws?

The people immediately rallied to the person of Verity, calling her an Imperial Saint who had fought alongside the Master of Mankind and died at this very spot. being honored by the God-Emperor for her sacrifice with this statue. The Temple's historiographers privately disagreed - the statue was clearly entirely allegorical; there had never been a "Saint Verity" who defeated some serpent monster. That the Emperor and the Imperial Fists had won a _Victoria Imperalis_ on Ophelia was a matter of historical fact, even if the campaign records were frustratingly scant. This statue was a representation of that - of the truth of humanity conquering the lies of the alien, the heretic and the mutant. It was nothing more than the primitive superstition of ignorant plebs, verging on idolatry, to believe there had ever been a Saint Verity.

Constantinus was well aware of their opinion, and probably believed it himself. But the value of "Saint Verity" for the people and his own plans was too great to ignore. "Truly, you are guided by the light of the Emperor!" he roared, shouting to be heard over the crowd's chants of _Sancta Veritas!_ "His own will has revealed this saint to you! Adore her! Venerate her! Emulate her! On this soil the God-Emperor walked, and on this soil she received the crown of her martyrdom!" He prostrated himself before the statue, kissing her feet and spitting on the serpent. "Thus we embrace truth and reject falsehood!"

And thus was established the first of the great pilgrimage routes, the Via Imperator of Ophelia VII. First from across the planet, and then the system, and then the segmentum, and finally the whole Imperium pilgrims came to the city of Saint Laertes and walked the long road up the valley, beside the river, climbing the treacherous mountains to the very summit of the peak. There, gasping in the thin air, whipped by the stinging cold of the icy winds, they kissed the feet of truth and spat on the serpent of lies.

Money from the pilgrims - for tithes and donations, for the purchase of icons and statues and medals, not to mention the practical necessities of food and lodging - poured into the coffers of Ophelia VII. But Constantinus was wily and did not keep it all for himself. He gave control of lucrative concessions to his Chancellor-Ministers, of course, but to the Ecclesiarch he presented the Via Imperator itself. The valley floor, on either side of the river between the walls, from the gates of the city of Saint Laertes to the foothills, and the twisting, writhing switchback up the rockface, and finally the central peak itself. All this territory, a thin ribbon running through the wild lands of the mountains, the most sacred soil on Ophelia, perhaps the most sacred land outside Terra itself, was given personally to the Ecclesiarch.

Constantinus did this as governor of Ophelia VII and the Administratum could do nothing to stop him. His rivals in the college were thwarted, for the Ecclesiarch was not only assured of Constantinus' loyalty but also the recipient of vast tithes and pilgrimage donations along the Via Imperator. Constantinus - and those who came after him - would receive the protection and support of the Ecclesiarch, for while the Emperor's vicar owned the Via Imperator, practical access to it was controlled by the master of Ophelia.

And it was perhaps this reason that Constantinus never sought the position of Ecclesiarch; Cardinal-Governor of Ophelia was a less-prestigious position, but one with more independence and wealth and only marginally-less influence. Until Benedin IV in M34, no Ophelian Cardinal became Ecclesiarch and none have since then - the college recognizes the outsize influence Ophelia has on the Adeptus Ministorum and while not seeking (because they are unable) to curb it, they do not wish to compound the problem by adding to it.

When Constantinus finally died late in the third century of the 31st millennium, Ophelia's power, position, and prestige were firmly established. Billions of pilgrims walked the Via Imperator every year, each contributing to the coffers of both Ophelia and the Ecclesiarchy. When Constantius died, the pilgrims walked past his coffin as it lay in state in the cathedral and he was lain to rest in the crypt next to Saint Laertes himself.

He was not, of course, buried in the mountains - while the atheistic governors' interpretation of the law had been changed, the Emperor's edict still stood. There would be no construction and no excavation without the mountains.

But while that edict stood for several millennia, that did not mean the mountains were not inhabited.


	4. The Bucolic Mountains

With the first of the extra-Terran pilgrimage routes - the so-called Via Imperator - established, the influence and prestige of Ophelia within the Ecclesiarchy grew almost as fast as its coffers swelled with tithes and donations. Constantinus, a wily politician, had gifted the pilgrimage route itself to the Ecclesiarch, but retained control of the territory surrounding it - ensuring the mouthpiece of Him-On-Earth would remain favorably disposed and inclined to grant concessions to the master of Ophelia.

The Emperor's edict concerning the mountains - that there would be no excavation or construction within them - had stood for over three centuries, and Constantinus and his immediate successors did not challenge or change it. It is uncertain how much of this was genuine religious obedience to the whims of their deity - even at this early stage of the Imperial Cult, higher-ranking members were willing to modify established dogma for the benefit of the Ecclesiarchy or themselves - and how much was practicality; Constantinus had defied the first atheistic governors' prohibition on merely entering the mountains by proclaiming the Emperor's "true edict" of forbidding excavation and construction. A theology of sacred space was quickly developed; the Emperor had walked within the mountains, sanctifying the terrain by his divine footsteps. Nothing could be permitted to disturb this hallowed ground. It would have been impossible - not to mention inadvisable - to challenge a doctrine so recently and powerfully promulgated.

But while construction and excavation were impossible, a human presence within the mountains was essential. The Via Imperator was hundreds of miles long and pilgrims made the journey on foot; places to eat and lodge were essential if they were not to starve or collapse with exhaustion.

"That the Emperor forbade excavation or construction is undeniable!" preached Constantinus. "But what did He mean by this edict? The ignorant and faithless might say we cannot know - that the mind of the Emperor is ineffable and beyond comprehension by mere mortals. But those who say that display their impiety and heresy - would they truly have us believe His divine instrument in the galaxy, the Ecclesiarchy itself, cannot interpret the Emperor's will? Was it not for this very purpose that the Emperor laid this terrible duty on His most-humble of servants?

"By speaking of 'excavation and construction', the Emperor wishes us to understand these things together - He does not forbid the raising of shelters, or the tilling of the soil. No! What he forbids is delving into the earth and using what is there to raise an edifice, or sinking a foundation into the sacred terrain. Furthermore, the Emperor forbids the extraction of mineral wealth from the mountains.

"Some may say this is foolish and short-sighted; that the mountains are rich with minerals and ores and Ophelia could benefit greatly by mining them. But what could we know that the omniscient Emperor is not aware of? Was it not, in fact, He who placed those minerals there? Did He not place them there as a temptation to avaricious troglodytes who would rather grub in stygian darkness than dwell in the benevolent light of the sun for the sake of a few paltry credits?

"No! The land of the mountains is sacred; it was sanctified by the footsteps of not only the Emperor Himself - although such a touch makes it the holiest of lands! - but also by that of the saints; Rogal Dorn and Verity. If the Primarch, the master of siege craft, did not see fit to dig trenches and build walls, who are we to so? To delve into the mountains would be to rape Verity herself, to raise edifices would be to attach crude bionics to her most-lovely frame!"

Thus did Constantinus and his subordinates and successors preach, interpreting the Emperor's edict for their own ends. The Chancellors' mining operations on the outer planets profited from the mountains' mineral wealth remaining untapped, and by controlling the Ophelian spaceports the Cardinal benefited from the transport and import of raw materials to build ever-more magnificent palaces and temples.

The stark, rugged terrain of the mountains was left untouched, but not uninhabited. The interpretation of the Emperor's edict did not allow the sinking of foundations or the raising of buildings made from materials cut from the earth, but it did allow the tilling of the soil and grazing of animals. Walls and buildings of undressed stone, collected from riverbeds and screes, drystacked with cunning and skill, were permitted. A months-long debate in the marble-and-adamantium cloisters of power concluded it was permissible to drive a wooden stake or piling into the earth, but not dig a hole to set a post. Wooden cabins, made of logs cleverly notched and spiked together, secured and buttressed with such stakes, were erected. Railings of split logs, fences of woven willow panels, not to mention tents of every shape and size and configuration - these were the edifices the masters of the faith permitted to be raised.

A rural culture of self-reliance and pastoral peace grew up in the mountains, with the majority of people being simple farmers or craftsmen. There was no prohibition on the use of advanced technology - the ploughmen could have used tractors to till the soil, but instead they preferred to walk behind a team of groxen, watching with expert eyes as the steel blade bit into the earth. The flocks raised for milk and meat and wool could have been tended by servitors and rounded up by modified cybermastifs, but instead shepherds strode the fields in all weathers, accompanied by loyal canines, rough-furred in black-and-white against the wind and rain.

This simplicity, a closeness to the land, labor done with hands rather than machines, became a hallmark of first the mountains' way of life and then their theology. It was lauded by the Cardinals and priests, and became part of walking the Via Imperator. Pilgrims would set aside their offworld clothes and put on homespun robes, cutting themselves a pilgrim's staff and walking the route on foot. Each day at noon they would break for a simple meal - sold to them by the daughter of a local farmer, or maybe purchased from a simple tavern - of bread and cheese and still-warm sheep's milk. In the evening, they would feast on roasted goat and cloudy ale beneath the smoky timbers of a tavern and then sleep on sheepskin mats. Or, if they mistimed their journey, share a frugal meal with a farmer or shepherd, sleeping fitfully in a hayloft or animal stall. In the morning, cured porcine flesh crisply fried and stuffed between stone-ground bread would be breakfast, and the pilgrimage would begin again.

This simplistic, even rude, bucolic existence only added to the popularity of the Via Imperator. Far from the pollution and bustle of the wider Imperium, the pilgrimage was a mental retreat as well as a spiritual one. The simple wisdom of the farmers and shepherds was lauded, their utterances debated as far away as Holy Terra itself.

Some, of course, preached warnings against the pastoral idyll - was it not indolent and wasteful to farm so inefficiently, to spurn the technologies of the Mechanicus? Such mutterings came from the Forge Worlds and even other, jealous, Cardinals - but the masters of Ophelia were wily and easily countered it. How can anyone call the farmers of the mountains lazy when they rise before dawn and work until dark? Their hands are never idle - and it is idle hands that are the playthings of the Ruinous Powers. Was it not technology that threatened to destroy humanity during the Dark Age? Does humanity, the most perfect of all forms, not risk being lost in the shadow of the machine? In so far as it is possible, should humanity not seek to cast off the shackles of the machine? The Emperor himself showed us the Via Imperator, should we not all follow in his sacred footsteps?

And so the pattern for the mountains of Ophelia was established; a pleasant, pastoral existence devoted to living in harmony with the land and serving the pilgrims of the Via Imperator. This was to last, broadly unchanged, for five thousand years until the Thorian Reforms and the foundation of the Adepta Sororitas.

* * *

 _ **A/n:**_ _So I have now taken the history to the point where (I think) I have satisfactorily explained why Ophelia is so powerful, influential and wealthy in the 36th millennium. It is something the GW background states tangentially many, many times but we might not appreciate - there is no separation of church and state in the Imperium and it is (arguably and in many ways) a theocracy. The possession of a relic, a popular pilgrimage route, or even just influence within the faith, has always been a method of ensuring political power and wealth. In a Empire of trillions of souls, all of whom are faithful to your religion, even a fraction of the tithe is a huge amount of money._

 _The next phase of the history is the establishment of the Adepta Sororitas and the Synod Ministra, and the creation of the 'Dust Zone. Stay tuned for updates but, for now, be sure to let me know what you think!_


End file.
